


The Last Stop

by Anonymous



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: GNC jonathan sims, Grooming, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Manipulation, PTSD, Public Sex, Season 3, Unhealthy Dependency, Unhealthy Relationships, Victim Blaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:14:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27171608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Jon takes the late train home and encounters a stranger.
Relationships: Jonathan Sims/Elias Bouchard, Jonathan Sims/Original Male Character
Comments: 2
Kudos: 45
Collections: Anonymous





	The Last Stop

Jon did not mean to stay so late at the Archives, but after putting up with being unable to even set a single foot inside the place for several weeks made him miss it more than he realized. An unconscious bond drawing him here and leaving him empty when he could stay in them no longer. Even the notion there was a dead body in his office (the exact reason _for_ his absence) was not enough into motivating him to leave early.

So his dilemma at this point is whether to stay the night, or make his way home now. There are still trains running for another couple hours and having clearance to finally go to his own home was a nice concept. Jon is eternally grateful Georgie was willing to put him up, but it would be nice to use his own shower and sleep in his own bed for once—if his mind lets him that is.

Still, he promised Martin he’d try, and that is what carries his tired feet to through the terminal, awaiting the arrival of his train home. It is a bit of a ride, but given the hour, the compartment is practically empty when he gets on. This changes the next stop over when a rather boisterous party gets on and has the irritating notion of sitting near him.

Jon stands to hold the pole by one of the doors instead and lets his eyes slip close while he settles in for the next leg of the trip.

He jumps when a hand touches his side several minutes later. As he opens his mouth to ask why he’s being touched, maybe an insistence for personal space, none of it ends up mattering when another hand moves to cover his mouth.

“We’ll have none of that, Mr. Sims.”

“You’ll be good, right?” The hand that had been touching his side, slithers up just slightly untucking his shirt from his long skirt and moving up to touch his chest. The man’s hand is freezing. Jon can’t contain his shaking, both from the cold and the unwanted touches.

He wonders if it is worth it to fight since he shouldn’t be alone in the train car, but he has no idea where they are on the line and when the next stop is. He’s dealt with many monsters the past several months, and yet, all those experiences have prepared him for is wondering what new pain he’s supposed to endure next. If he does try to fight, that might actually put his life in danger. Still, Jon tries to move his head to the side to see if he can catch the eye of one of those annoying folks from earlier if they’re still on to help. He isn’t able to move his head, but his eyes still catch sight of them, though strangely they don’t seem to be aware of any of it.

“Is this really something you’d want an audience for? You Beholding types are all the same.”

The man’s hand moves just a bit higher to pinch at his nipples and Jon bites back the noise that wants to escape. His mind is connecting confusing dots even faster now that he knows whatever this person _, this thing_ , touching him knows about the fears. He stiffens, but stops his minute amount of struggling, convinced for sure he’s supposed to merely get through what is happening to him.

“That’s a good lad, now open up your mouth for me. If you scream, it won’t do anything for you. I’ll tell you right now, they can’t even see you.”

Tentatively, Jon does as he’s told. He’s picking through what he knows, trying to think back and figure out how they’re doing that. The world still feels too put together and he sounds too… normal to be pulling any sort of tricks the Spiral might. Besides, Michael—no Helen—he corrects, isn’t here and he hasn’t heard of any other manifestation of it. His skin similarly feels too normal—nothing like the smooth monstrosity of Nikola’s fake hands he still feels on him when he closes his eyes.

They’re hidden… cold, cold, what an idiot. This man is attached to the Lonely, but why is he here? Is he a Lukas?

His mouth is working mechanically around the fingers, tongue lubricating them as best as he can because that’s all he’s going to get isn’t it? Jon’s so resigned to pain, resigned to what happens to him that he’s merely prepping the fallout and trying to put bigger pieces together while it happens.

He can’t escape all of it though. Beholding won’t let him.

Elias had said these things would make him stronger, but he doesn’t think this is one of those instances. He feels smaller and helpless and alone.

When the man slowly takes his fingers out of Jon’s mouth, he makes a bad decision.

“Why are you doing this?” He whispers, tangled with power and he feels the man harshly dig blunt nails into his chest.

“Paid. Nothing personal,” He responds in clipped pain. “Do that again, and I don’t take my time with this.”

Jon shivers again and he isn’t sure whether it’s from the threat or the feel of cold fingers on his skin as he feels the man hike his skirt up enough to get underneath.

He doesn’t want this and nonsensically in panic wants to scream. The man already said it’d be pointless. Jon doesn’t even want anyone to see, to know this is happening either, but he also doesn’t want it to happen. There is no changing it and as he feels those fingers push inside he jerks forward unable to actually pull away.

An overhead chime alerts them they’ll be stopping again and the man laughs, leaning down closer. His stubble scratches at Jon’s neck and he squirms futilely trying to get away. His chest is abandoned as the man moves his arm back up to cover Jon’s mouth again.

The prep is quick after that. Whatever thoroughness the man had intended to give evaporated with Jon’s attempt to escape. Considering it seems like he hadn’t intended on ever using more lubricant than that, Jon isn’t surprised. There is no kindness here in this cold train car where help is in reach, but an impossible dream at the same time. Jon’s used to no help though. Used to the acceptance monsters live in this world and now it’s his job to watch them work.

He bites back another cry as slowly the other’s cock fills him, uncomfortably and painfully dry. His hands find purchase on the side bar on the seats, one hand gripping the railing while the other rests on the window the door in front of him. Right now, all stop exits are on the other side of the train so the doors shouldn’t open, but Jon honestly isn’t sure whether that is preferable. There is no escaping anymore, but he can still dream of it.

It’s impossible to block out all of it. The sensation is too distinct, too painful, the weight and pull of the stranger’s dick sting and ache—his breath heavy by Jon’s ear making moans that feel too loud, but attract no attention. He’s resigned to wait it out until it ends, but then as he stays quiet, once more the hand that was on his mouth goes wandering. Fingers creep down to his crotch, and the man groans as he feels the slight tent on the front of Jon’s skirt. It’s a physical reaction Jon feels nauseous thinking about and had neglected to notice, but now he knows and frantically drops the hand he’d been gripping the door with to grasp at the man’s arm instead.

“Please,” he begs, not specifying. He knows there’s no begging for him to stop—it’s why he hadn’t tried. He doesn’t want to be touched like that though, doesn’t want to associate any kind of pleasure his body wants to create from this.

“Really? Fine,” he grunts and speeds up. He doesn’t make a motion to stroke Jon, but his hand doesn’t leave. Jon can’t pretend it isn’t happening like this. He’d never been able to. They may be isolated, but there is one eye he cannot escape and it weighs heavy on him now as he takes it all in.

Soon enough, he feels the man coming inside him, which Jon is only grateful for insofar as it makes it just a tiny bit less painful as he pulls out. There is nothing after that. The man only laughs, pats his shoulder and steps out of the train. There isn’t a single detail besides the stubble and the ache he left behind that Jon can remember. He’s shaking from chill and the event itself catching up to him, almost screaming when a different hand touches his shoulder.

“Here, let’s plug this up for now and get you home.” The voice is a comfort and also the last person he wants to see or hear right now. If he thought he could keep himself standing without the support, Jon would throw his hand off him in an instant.

“You _knew_ this would— _Tell me_ , Elias,” Jon’s pain and misery for a brief moment merge into stark hot anger.

“You really have grown stronger,” Elias breathes, strain in his tone, but his eyes are blown wide with pleasure. He’s gorged himself this evening and with his Archivist here trying to compel him again it’s simply too much.

“I was going to wait until we got you inside, but shall I give you some more attention first? You seemed to be enjoying yourself.” His eyes are a dangerous, brilliant green and Jon swallows, vividly aware he’s still expected to be on the train for another twenty minutes.

“Please, I’ll… please, wait.” He knows after the lengths Elias has gone through to arrange all this, pleading for him to not do it at all is a pointless endeavor. Elias merely pats the side facing the corner of the train compartment where no one can see, before hiking that side of Jon’s skirt up and carefully nudging a toy to keep him from leaking—not that it has prevented such an occurrence for the past couple minutes they’ve been talking. His underwear is already unpleasantly wet and at least his body has thankfully stopped betraying him and his prick has softened.

“Was this really necessary?” Jon mutters, hating how even now some part of his body instinctively feels it should relax under Elias’s hands because comparatively he isn’t doing anything this moment. He arranged and watched it and he just said he intends to continue it. Jon knows better. He really does. When the announcement they’re arriving at his stop chimes overhead, Jon takes Elias’s offered hand as he steps out of the train, shaky legs threatening to give out any moment on the platform.

He lets Elias take him home.

**Author's Note:**

> If there is anything I neglected to tag, please inform me and I will add it.


End file.
